


Allometry

by soniclipstick (veriscence)



Category: X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Abandonment Issues, Airplane Sex, Angry Erik, Angry Sex, Angst, Barebacking, DOFP Fix-It, Fix-It, I promise, M/M, Mile High Club, Nobody remembered to bring lube, Spoilers for Days of Future Past, The boys don't die, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-03
Updated: 2014-06-03
Packaged: 2018-02-03 07:04:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1735526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veriscence/pseuds/soniclipstick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Allometry: In evolution, relative growth of a part in relation to an entire organism or to a standard. </p><p>They'd grown and stretched in each others' absence, but without the other to guide them, the pieces no longer fit together the way they once did. </p><p>(My take on what really happened on the plane.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Allometry

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta'd. Mistakes are all mine. Don't read this until you've watched DOFP!  
> At first this was shameless smut, then there were feels...

They take the railway station nearest to the Pentagon, pausing only for a brief moment to grab Charles' backpack from the storage locker it had been placed in. Inside the train, Erik changes in the toilet out of his prison suit into the dark blue button up and corduroys. There are no undergarments, no socks even; but he can do without. The shirt is snug at the shoulders, smells of old books and ozone just like Erik remembers. Something things, it would seem, never change. Other things are so different Erik wonders if this is some sort of nightmare, a side effect of being away from metal for too long. Maybe this is what losing your mind feels like.

Charles Xavier without telepathy. The sentence makes no sense in his mind, even after repeating those words so many times that they don't seem like actual words in the English language anymore.

He wonders if it has something to do with Charles' new-found ability to walk despite being a paraplegic. Erik decides he's going to ask him about that the first chance he gets. After he can get a safe distance away from this Peter kid who, though Erik likes, leaves him uneasy like something at the back of his mind, an itch he can't quite reach. There is just something very familiar about that defiant jaw, and those eyes of steel. Not the mirth in them, but the shape of them. It'll hit him a few months later, and he'll make a visit to Magda to find a ten year old girl, but the boy under the guardianship of an old friend.

In the mean time Erik lets it go and focuses on Charles and Hank and the newcomer as they make it into the city before taking a hidden car to the airstrip. Take off is silent, awkwardly so, but Erik doesn't notice, far too occupied by Logan's fantastical story. It would seem Erik had been right in the end. All along, he'd been right about the humans. If there has ever been any sliver of doubt in his mind about how idealistic and naive Charles' point of view on the humans was, it has left the nest permanently.

Logan looks exhausted and angry, which seems to be his resting face, and Hank is focused on piloting the aircraft. Charles refuses to even grace him with a minute glance. He doesn't care. He's not surprised, they haven't seen each other in eleven years, not after he'd left the man in that humans' care in Cuba. Not after Charles had thrown him away the moment he couldn't agree with Erik's actions anymore. He was happy with political and philosophical discussions but the moment Erik did something Charles did not agree with, Erik became yet another unneeded plaything. Charles Xavier had left him alone after promising him on the very day they'd met that it was exactly what he wasn't.

But now is not the time to let thoughts on a decade old grievance fester. They're on their way to Paris, Erik still trying to make sense of the stranger sitting on the seat across from him.

_You sent me, you and Charles. From the future._

That's what he'd said. Erik and Charles. Together. In the future. Fifty years in the future. Erik is 37, and Charles two years younger no matter how hard he pretends to be older and wiser, but he cannot imagine either of them in their seventies. To imagine them living that long let alone ever making amends, seems far too improbable. What sort of a catastrophic world do they end up in that though so many young mutants had died, Erik and Charles remain alive? When he was younger, he had never considered living past killing Shaw. Then after he'd left Cuba with Emma and the others, and he had only considered living for the future, for the generations of mutants who needed a leader. But he had never considered living for another ten years, not with the war ahead of them.

When he returns to the present, he catches Charles to his right, anxiously clenching his hands into the arm rest. He's grown a beard, and his hair needs a wash, but that is not what surprises Erik. It's the clear anger on the face of a man who Erik remembers as a fervent pacifist. Considering the impressive bruise on his left cheek left there by a man who clearly has no experience in physical altercations, Erik has to admit that this is not the Charles Xavier he remembers.

"How did you lose them?" He asks.

"The treatment for my spine affects my DNA," Charles grits out, focusing once cornflower blue eyes in Erik's direction. When did Charles' eyes become so pale and colourless? Maybe it was another side effect. Maybe that was the point of the treatment, to take away the most beautiful pieces of Charles. What an utter waste.

"You sacrificed your powers so you could walk?"

"I sacrificed my powers so that I could slee-" Charles freezes and looks away. "What do you know about it..." He turns to look out the window and Erik knows already this won't end well. Charles always believing he was better than Erik, that he _knew_ better. What did Charles know but of hiding and cowering?

"I've lost my fair share."

Charles laughs at him, but there is no humour, no little wrinkles around his eyes, "Dry your eyes, Erik. It doesn't justify what you've done."

And there it is again, the sanctimonious, self-important part of Charles that makes Erik want wrap metal around his neck to shut him up the way he had once done to Emma. As if Charles even knew Erik anymore. It's been 11 years and he still feels unworthy in front of this mess of a man. "You have no idea the things I've done."

"I know you took the things that meant most to me."

"Well maybe you should have fought harder for them," Erik bites back.

"If you want a fight Erik, I will give you a fight," Charles shouts as he stands up. Erik follows, refusing to look up to this man ever again.

"I didn't come-"

"You abandoned me!" Charles accuses him, voice growing even louder as he launches himself at Erik. "You took her away and you abandoned me!"

Erik can feel something break. He doesn't know what, but something in him has snapped. All he can see are Angels' broken wings and a memory of little baby Kurt, abandoned in Germany when Mystique could no longer live with the death of her lover. Metal sings in resonance with him, poised to act on his next thought.

"Angel. Azazel. Emma. Banshee. Mutant brothers and sisters," shattered pieces of diamonds tainted in blood, "All dead!" The plane turns to its' side, and Charles goes flying back, "Countless others, experimented on, butchered!"

He ignores Hank's cries. "Where were you, Charles? We were supposed to protect them! Where were you when your own people needed you?" Where were you when I needed you? " Hiding! You and Hank, pretending to be something you're not." How could he have ever loved this man? How could he still-

"Erik!"

He reigns in the anger; rights the aircraft and forces his own body to stop shaking, "You abandoned us all."

He wasn't the one who left, that was on Charles. Charles who should have come with Erik. Who had had the gall to tell him one night that Erik was his entire world, and the next morning reject him on a beach even as Erik begged him to come home with him. Who had told Erik that Erik was his home more than Westchester or Raven? Charles, who had lied to him. Charles glares and walks to the back of the plane without giving him an answer.

"So you were always an asshole," Logan comments from behind.

"I take it we're best buddies in the future then," Erik says as he turns to the other mutant.

"I spent a lot of years trying to bring you down, bub."

"And how did that work out for you?" Erik snaps.

"You're like me, you're a survivor," He takes a long drag of his cigar. "Wanna pick all that shit up?"

***

It takes a few hours before Charles returns to his seat, and Erik, who finds the chess set while cleaning up, has to bring it out. This man who looks broken and lost is not the Charles Erik had loved more than he knew he was capable of anymore. This unkempt disarray that makes up this shell is the exact opposite of the Charles he remembers, the Charles who was up earlier that Erik not to go for a run, but to make himself ready for the day. Vain as it gets, but God, he'd been beautiful. He still is. Erik is angry, so angry. But there is a treacherous part of him that wants nothing more than to reach and touch the beard, mouth at the bristly jaw. He steadfastly ignores it and instead places the chess board on the table in front of Charles.

"Fancy a game? It's been a while"

"Not in the mood for games, thank you," He looks away from Erik, voice so cold Erik wonders if this is the same man he remembers. He berates himself. It's high time to stop comparing past and current Charles, he thinks to himself. It's been eleven years. People change. Erik did, for sure.

He licks his lips instead and pours himself three fingers of scotch, probably something ridiculously expensive. He used to feel guilty drinking it before, though Charles had downed it like water. "I haven't had a real sip in ten years," he comments. He leans back against the seat behind him and takes a sip. He has to close his eyes to gain some sort of balance. The memories come rushing to him and Erik has to wonder if it isn't Charles' doing. Charles winning and pouring Erik another glass as compensation. Chess pieces clattering to the floor as Charles leaps from his chair over to Erik's to straddle him. All the metal in the Xavier manor singing and turning and twisting as Charles covers Erik's nipple with his mouth. Erik and Charles in bed, taste of scotch mixing with Charles' come in his mout-

Erik sighs and opens his eye. No. He can't go there, not again. But Charles is looking at him with such derision, he wants to say something.

"I didn't kill the president."

"The bullet curved, Erik-"

Erik's lips twist into an ugly smile. "Because I was trying to save him. They took me out before I could."

"Why would you try and save him?" Charles asks, the disbelief clear on his face.

"Because he was one of us."

There is a flicker in Charles' eyes and Erik wants nothing more than to drop to his knees and kiss the moisture away. Erik hates himself. Charles had forsaken him, yet Erik can't help wanting him, even this half broken facsimile of the man he'd fallen in love with.

"You must think me so foolish. You always said they would come after us-"

"But I never thought they would use Raven's DNA to do it." With Charles she would always be Raven, not striking and dangerous Mystique, not Azazel's widow and absent mother, but Charles' bratty little sister.

"When did you last see her?" There is concern in Charles' eyes for the first time, and Erik sits down across from him to be on even footing.

"Right before I left for Dallas."

"And how was she?"

"Strong, driven. Loyal."

"How was she?" He repeats.

"She was..." Erik sighs. "You would have been proud of her." It's a lie. But he won't tell Charles the truth. That she was searching for revenge. That peace had no longer become an option for her either. Charles doesn't know of Azazel or Kurt, and Erik won't give that up, not without reason. "She's out there fighting for our cause-"

" _Your_ cause. The Raven I raised was not capable of killing."

Erik bites back a shout of anger. The Raven he raised. As if, they were children growing up together, and still Charles thought himself above her. "You didn't raise her, you grew up with her, she couldn't stay a little girl forever, that's why she left."

"She left, because you got inside her head," Charles accuses.

"That's not my power. She made a choice," he replies with a smirk.

"And now we know where that choice leads," Charles answers. "She's going to murder Trask, they're going to capture her, and they are going to wipe us out." His voice is but a whisper by the end, his lower lip trembles.

"Not if we get to her first," Erik counters. And take her out permanently, he doesn't voice. Charles is right. They're going to wipe the mutants off the face of the earth using Raven's DNA. That can't happen. She deserves her peace, deserves to be with Azazel again. It's only right he be the one to take her out, considering he had led her in the first place. Whatever her choice, she would not have braved leaving an injured Charles without Erik. This is his mess to clean up. "Not if we change history tomorrow."

They're inches away from each other now. Erik can see the birthmark on Charles' forehead, nearly hidden by hair, the self-afflicted bite marks on Charles' cherry red lips. Something in his eyes that Erik can't place, all he knows is he misses the intensity in them. "I'm sorry," Erik whispers. "For what happened."

Charles pulls away with a grimace and finishes his drink. When he looks back at Erik, the vulnerability is hidden once again, "It's been a while since I've played."

"I'll go easy on you. It might finally be a fair fight," Erik says, then has to gulp his own drink down instead of freezing. It's like the old days again, playful banter and innuendo thrown in with copious amounts of alcohol and chess. Charles had always had the greatest capacity for forgiveness.

The first game is silent, and Charles loses spectacularly. It's a joy to watch and Erik has to stop himself from leaning over and biting his earlobe to console him as he used to. Charles has always been a sore loser. The second game, Erik soon realises half way in, is a clear copy of a game they played years ago. Except this time, Charles wins. There's a moment where the old Charles shines through, glee evident on his face and he leans forward before abruptly shutting down and pulling away.

"I think that's enough for games, Erik." He pulls his legs to his chest and wraps his arms around them, looking out at the dark sky again.

This is a bad idea. Charles had left him. Charles had thrown him away because he hadn't behaved like the perfect puppet Charles had wanted him to be. Charles had tried to change him like he'd tried to change Raven.

Charles had told him he loved him.

Logan is asleep. Hank is not to be seen, and even if he were, Erik doesn't care. It's always like this with them. Chess and scotch and a filthy if incredibly satisfying fuck. Why make an exception this time?

The chess pieces obediently fly away along with the board as he rushes to Charles, pushing his knees apart to make space for Erik. He makes a grab for his shirt, already unbuttoned at the top. Whatever Charles wants to say in response is swallowed by Erik's mouth as he grabs Charles by the jaw and claims him again.

He tastes like whiskey, desire and grief. Charles gasps into his mouth and wraps his legs around Erik, not yet hard, but obviously on his way. Charles brings his hands up, tangling his fingers into Erik's hair, digging into his skull before they come to frame his face, and run down his chest. It's like fire, only worse, it's like he's the one who was paralysed until Charles touched him and reminded his skin to feel. Charles had always been greedy, and that hasn't changed in all these years, he licks into Erik's mouth possessively, sucks on his tongue and nibbles his lower lip. The plane trembles. Then adept fingers reach his abdomen, and pushes him away, _hard_. Erik falls back with his ass on the table.

"Stop it. Stop it. I'm not- you're not- just stop it!" Charles snarls before standing up and heading to the back of the jet yet again. Ten years have turned Charles into a coward it would seem.

Erik inhales and exhales, then repeats that for a full minute before he can get his heart under control, can get his powers under control. Erik makes his way to the toilet, willing his erection away. This won't end well. They're too different now. They've grown, but at different rates, and they don't fit each other anymore. He looks at his reflection in the mirror. His lips are swollen and shiny from saliva. Charles'. The bruise from the punch is turning blue. Also Charles'. He's trying to smooth out his hair when the bathroom door opens to reveal Charles.

In hindsight, he should probably have locked the fucking door.

Charles squeezes in and locks the door behind him, twisting back to face Erik. They're silent and still for a moment, taking each other in. Erik can see dried lines on his cheeks and red eyes, proof that this literally will end in tears, again. But he can't help it, this battle is lost before it has even begun. It was lost the moment the elevator doors opened to reveal Charles Xavier in all his fractured glory.

Erik won't do it again, he's been rejected twice now, and he is not a fool. But he doesn't fight as Charles divests himself of his pants in the small space, standing on them once they are removed. The defined muscles are long gone, Erik can count ribs, he reaches forward only to have his hands swatted away for Charles to grab at Erik's pants. Erik hisses as the metal of the zipper runs against his painfully hard cock, bites his lip as Charles' thumb catches against the head before pulling the pants down to his knees. Charles shuts the toilet lid and pushes Erik down. This time, Charles leads.

Charles straddles Erik and Charles steals wet, needy kisses. Charles grinds his own hard cock against Erik's and messes up his hair again. Charles shuts his cries out with brutal kisses and a hand wrapped around his throat. All Erik can do is wrap his own arms around Charles and take, terrified to give anything more than what Charles has decided is his right to claim. So it is Charles who takes charge of removing the rest of their clothes and it's Charles who presses their chests together before managing to wrap a hand around both of them.

The sudden heat of it sends them trading shaky breaths and Erik claws down Charles' back to regain some sort of control.

Then Charles pulls away slightly to lick his own fingers and the plane turns on its side, sending them sliding onto the toilet wall. Hank begins to shout again. Erik has to shut his eyes tight and hold Charles away by the hip just to gain control again.

"Stop it," Erik orders once he opens his eyes and finds two fingers in Charles' mouth. "We haven't any-"

"I don't care." Charles growls, coming up to his knees on Erik's side and leaning forward until he can reach around the back to open himself up. He's above Erik now, a single dusky nipple in the perfect position for Erik to lean forward and graze with his teeth. Charles jumps in shock, then gasps as his head rolls back, clearly having found his prostate. No, this isn't how it works, Erik thinks. Charles doesn't get to go on without Erik, not again. Erik's arms find his hips (so much bonier than before) and pushes him down, lining their cocks up perfectly again. It's awkward and the toilet too small and Erik knows he's pulled Charles' fingers out of his ass by the look of annoyance in Charles' face. But he doesn't care, because the only fingers Erik ever wants to see inside of Charles is his own.

Charles opens his mouth but finds himself unable to form coherent sentences as Erik brings two fingers into Charles' mouth and resolutely begins to fuck his mouth open.

"Make them nice and wet," Erik orders and Charles, for once, for once in his life, he complies, velvet tongue sinfully running over his knuckles, the webbing between his fingers. It's nowhere near enough but they're both leaking cum and rutting against each other that if Erik doesn't open up Charles now, it'll be too late. So he pulls his fingers out away and pushes the slighter man up onto his knees again before reaching around and pushing in with both fingers, curling them just as he remembers, sending Charles flying backwards. His head slams into the mirror above the sink, protected by Erik's other hand before it could cause Charles any harm. It's going to bruise, but then, what isn't?

"Get inside of me, now," Charles growls again and spits onto his hand before slicking up Erik's cock and pulls away from Erik's fingers until he's positioned above Erik's cock. Charles' own cock is flushed red against his stomach and Erik fists him, runs his thumb down the velvet length of it.

He's not ready. There is no way he's ready, it's not wet enough and Erik's much thicker and a lot longer than two measly fingers, but it doesn't stop Charles. Erik would stop him, but Charles left. Charles left as if Erik hadn't mattered and that hurt so this should hurt too. He should take it slow, and in the beginning it is. An eternity passes before Charles can get just the head inside of him, eyebrows furrowing until his body finally acquiesces to the intrusion, his arms wrapped around Erik as Erik mindlessly mouths at Charles' chest. And then it's in and Charles shoves himself down with a guttural moan, sheathing himself all the way until Erik is completely inside of Charles.

He's tight, so tight that Erik knows it won't last. Charles doesn't move, takes a moment to get used to the size of him again and Erik looks up to find Charles with his eyes closed, mouth open in a soundless trance and Erik can't help it. It's why Charles has always been his ruin, the way Charles gives himself up so easily. Erik needs to, he can't not have him right so he surges up, driving himself somehow even deeper within Charles while capturing his lips in a kiss infinitely softer than the savage point further south where their bodies are becoming one. Charles begins to move and Erik is no longer capable of rational thought, only of words like Charles and please and yes. Of freckles and hair that feels waxy from the build up of oil, and yes, of course, of stubble that feels glorious against his lips, against his forehead as Charles rides him while pressing persistent kisses into his hair.

There is no control, only Charles. Charles who is thinner than Erik remembers, but similar otherwise, from the mole on his back to the sensitive spot behind his ear than Erik only needs to run a blunt nail against to make him forget how to breathe.

Then Charles leans over and presses a single chaste kiss to his brow and Erik loses what little control he has left, spilling himself deep into Charles while his fist holds onto Charles tightly, just the way Charles likes it. Charles ignores it and continues to ride him, and Erik nearly misses Charles' orgasm, still high on the after effects of his own. It's when he's on the edge of overstimulation, his dick beginning to soften and pull out, that Erik looks up to find Charles shaking in his arms, arms that have to come up and wrap around Charles again. Bright azure eyes focus on Erik as he comes untouched onto their stomachs.

It is the most beautiful thing that Erik has ever seen in his life, and no matter how many times they do this, he is never left feeling any other way. It's like a second orgasm hitting him to watch as Charles take pleasure in the aftershocks, spasms overtaking his limbs. It was usually in moments like this that Charles used to tell him how much he loved him. That Charles used to call him things like beloved and miracle and _mine_.

He doesn't this time.

This time, he collapses onto Erik and wraps his arms around him, only to have Erik helplessly follow suit. "I did not abandon you. You left me. I lov- needed you and you left me-" he sobs into Erik's chest. "You left me!"

"You're the one who didn't want to come with." Erik whispers into Charles' hair.

They don't say anything after that. Soon enough, it aches too much to be here with Charles. Soon enough, he'll leave again because Charles thinks Erik is a monster and Erik thinks Charles needs to grow up. The more they change, the further they seem to be becoming from each other.

"That's not true. Our future selves managed." Charles says. Erik turns to Charles utterly betrayed until he realises that Charles has no powers, Erik had simply spoken that last sentence out loud. And he has a point. He wonders how long they'll have to wait before that happens. If by changing the future, he ends up losing Charles.

They clean up and leave the toilet one after the other. Logan is still asleep. There is no way Hank missed any of that, but he has his eyes focused on the machinery in front of him. They dig out fresh clothes from the back and then sink into their seats again, tense in a different way than before. Outside the stifling toilet, where every breath was shared for lack of space, all their problems have space to come to light, and Erik wants so desperately to go back to that place where it was just Erik and Charles and that feeling in his chest that convinces him he's going to explode from within.

Once, there had been a hole in that chest that Charles had fit perfectly. Now he's too jagged and Erik's chest is too empty. They'd grown and stretched in each others' absence, but without the other to guide them, the pieces no longer fit together the way they once did.

It doesn't matter what happens now, Erik knows that. It was a beautiful anomaly to have had one last chance to be with Charles. But once he kills her, it's truly and completely over. The hole in his chest will be far too big for even Charles to fill, and that is if he even would afterwards. Even Charles Xavier might not be able to forgive a betrayal of such magnitude.

They leave the plane in Paris pretending it never happened.

***

Three years after the spectacular devastation that was D.C., Erik is found by Riptide, who informs him that Mystique is dead, burned to ash by another mutant in Japan. Riptide tells him that he's finished, that he wants to spend time with his family, and leaves. Erik is all alone. The peace in his head without the intrusion of telepaths feels like a cage for the first time. Erik promptly takes his helmet off and scatters the metal into millions of particles.

He makes a long overdue visit to Magda and goes directly afterwards to Westchester. He has to take a moment at the entrance gate, still the same as before, old well-tended iron. 17 year old Peter is running circles around a girl with white hair while younger children play outside, the mansion and it's premises somehow cooler in comparison to the sweltering heat of July. Alex is sprawled out of the grass near the fountain, fast asleep.

Charles sits in his wheelchair on the terrace, Hank, blue and perfect in a lawn chair beside him as they keep a careful watch on the children. He's already looking at Erik, clad in a turtleneck and jeans. _Shy all of a sudden, old friend?_

The gates open at a single thought and Erik strides towards Charles. _Charles, we must talk._

Hank and the children now notice him as he comes to a stop in front of Charles. He looks good. His hair is beginning to thin and he's pale as always, and then oh, there's that smile he hasn't seen in fifteen years, produced near instantaneously by Peter's antics as he presents the girl with a bouquet of flowers whose petals have obviously been ripped off by wind. Charles turns that brilliant smile in his direction again and then leads him inside while reminding all the children to be good for Hank and Alex. Telepathically.

Charles breaks down quietly at the news of his sisters' death. Erik doesn't know what he's allowed to do, whether he's allowed to touch. So he simply sits across from him in Charles' private study, and mourns with him. Softly, he begins to speak of Raven from before Dallas. Strong, driven Raven who had hopes for the future. The Raven who fell in love with Azazel, who had Erik marry them in a broken down chapel in Minnesota. He tells Charles of Kurt, who's six years old and lives in a circus in Munich. Tears fall freely down Charles' face and Erik leans forward to wipe them away for lack of self-restraint. He wants to beg for forgiveness but the words don't come. Charles hears them anyway.

"She grew up. She made her own choice, Erik. As you did, my friend. I've come to respect that," Charles tells him later in bed, curled up between Erik's open legs. Erik massages his thighs, and he knows Charles can't feel it, he's already told Erik that but it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter because Erik loves every part of this man, even the broken ones.

This is a terrible idea. They're very different people in comparison to fifteen years ago, or even in comparison to three years ago. Erik is so full of jagged edges and the hole in his chest has come to encompass his entire being. Charles looks so soft. He's going to break this man again.

_I'm stronger than you think._

"You used to ask permission before you read my mind."

"You're being very loud in your head, darling"

Erik chokes on the word though it is Charles who speaks it. He needs to leave. This won't end well. How does Charles always find hope in him? In them? Erik sees none. But he's so tired, so angry at everything and so so alone. All that is left is Peter, Peter who probably believes in the idealistic views that Charles instils in his students. They're all going to end up dead, just like Martin Luthor King Jr. And Erik will be the lone survivor, alone and bitter because there's no one left to listen to him anymore. They're all dead.

 _Malcolm X had beliefs similar to yours my love. They killed him too_ , Charles comments as he presses a palm against Erik's bare chest. _Will you bring me my nephew?_

Erik shuts his eyes and presses a kiss into Charles' soft hair. He should leave. All they do is leave each other, it's what they're good at. Love left them hurting and broken and bitter. Love couldn't keep them together. What possibly could?

 _Our future._ Charles answers him _. Peter and Kurt and Wanda. Alex and Hank. Countless mutants I failed. They need me. They need us. And I need you._

For the future then. He'll stay for that much.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! This stays strictly within the movie verse. I know it's Pietro not Peter but they say Peter in the movies, so I'll stick with that. 
> 
> Do let me know what you think of my first Cherik fic, constructive criticism is always always appreciated.


End file.
